Reincarnated as the Villainess’s Unlucky Bodyguard

Liria's eyes snapped open.

Cold air curled around her skin, sharp and biting, but she felt no chill. A heavy weight pressed against her chest, something invisible yet suffocating. She knew what it was. Power.

Not hers.

Hers now.

The echoes of Azael's voice still lingered in her mind, sinking into the marrow of her bones.

"You will become everything you were meant to be."

Liria exhaled slowly, pushing herself up from the bed. She should have been exhausted—Azael had forced her into sleep, but it hadn't been restful. It had been a command, a demonstration of control. And she had obeyed without resistance.

Her fingers curled into fists against the sheets.

Her body thrummed with energy, dark and foreign, settling in her veins like molten iron. The Core of the Sovereign Flame had already changed her, but now, something deeper was shifting.

Azael had called it training.

Liria didn't like the sound of that.

[You awake, or should I come back when you're done brooding?]

Liria blinked.

The system.

For the first time since she had freed Azael, the system's voice cut through the haze in her mind.

[Yeah, that's right. I still exist. Don't act so surprised.]

Liria sighed. "What do you want?" she murmured under her breath.

[I'd ask the same thing, considering you're literally marching toward villainy at this point. And before you argue, let's review: you massacred a village, let Azael manipulate you into doing it, and now you've got the moral dilemma of a wet rock.]

She scowled. "I didn't kill all of them."

[Oh wow, Liria, what restraint. Truly, a hero in the making.]

She ignored the sarcasm, rubbing her temples. "You've been quiet."

[I had to be. Too much interference from your dear mother. She might not be able to see me, but she knows I exist. And let's just say, I'd rather not have a one-on-one conversation with her.]

Liria frowned. "You're scared of her?"

[Let's not use the word scared. Let's go with cautiously aware of the fact that she could erase me with a flick of her wrist.]

Liria fell silent.

Azael had always been an overwhelming force in her mind, but she had never considered that even the system—the one thing that had been with her since she had transmigrated—could be powerless against her.

And yet, wasn't that exactly what Azael wanted?

For her to see that everything else was weaker? That there was no point in resisting the inevitable?

Liria exhaled sharply and stood up, her muscles stretching in protest. She needed to move. Needed to do something.

[Where are you going?]

"I don't know," she muttered.

[Great. That's exactly what a person with unchecked, world-ending power should say.]

Liria ignored the system and stepped out of her room. The inn she had chosen was silent, its wooden halls creaking under the weight of the night. The villagers who had survived her attack were still mourning.

Still cowering.

She walked down the corridor, her boots barely making a sound. This place was so small. So insignificant.

She wasn't meant to be here.

She was meant to be more.

As she stepped outside, the night wrapped around her, thick with the scent of damp earth and cold wind. She stared at the darkened horizon. Somewhere, beyond those trees, past the mountains, was the next step.

Her next order.

Her next test.

[You're not thinking of running again, are you?] the system asked.

Liria's fingers twitched at her sides.

She had thought about it. Even now, after everything, some small part of her wondered if she could still leave. If she could walk away before it was too late.

But the truth was, it was already too late.

She had broken the seal.

She had given herself to the abyss.

And Azael would never let her go.

A shift in the air made her pause.

Azael.

She didn't need to turn to know she was there, watching. The presence was unmistakable—suffocating and enthralling at once.

"You seem troubled," Azael murmured.

Liria swallowed the bitter taste in her mouth. "I was thinking."

Azael tilted her head. "Dangerous habit."

Liria exhaled sharply. "What do you want?"

Azael smiled, stepping closer. Her crimson skin glowed faintly under the moonlight, her golden eyes bright and knowing. "I came to see if you were ready."

"For what?"
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"Your next task."

Liria's hands clenched. "Already?"

Azael hummed. "You want power, don't you?"

She did.

And yet, standing here, beneath her mother's gaze, Liria felt something tighten in her chest. A warning. A hesitation.

[She's never going to stop testing you,] the system said. [There will always be another task. Another command. Another excuse to strip away whatever's left of you.]

Liria forced a smirk. "You make it sound like a problem."

[It is a problem, genius.]

Azael's fingers brushed against her cheek, tilting her chin up slightly. "You're hesitating."

Liria forced herself to hold her gaze. "I don't hesitate."

Azael's smile widened. "Good."

For a moment, Liria thought she would leave it at that. That she would walk away, satisfied.

But then Azael leaned in, her voice a whisper against her ear.

"Don't forget, my dear," she purred. "You belong to me."

Liria didn't flinch.

Didn't react.

She only watched as Azael vanished into the shadows, leaving nothing behind but the heavy weight of her words.

[So, that wasn't creepy at all,] the system muttered.

Liria closed her eyes, exhaling slowly.

She wasn't sure when she had stopped caring.

She just knew that it didn't matter anymore.

Liria exhaled, watching the mist of her breath dissipate in the cold night air. The weight in her chest should have been suffocating, but instead, there was only emptiness. A hollow space where doubt had once lived.

She belonged to Azael.

The words echoed in her mind, smooth as silk, sharp as a blade. They should have unsettled her. Should have ignited some resistance, some shred of the old self that once clung desperately to defiance.

But there was nothing.

Not anymore.

[So, are we just… accepting that we're officially the heir to the most terrifying force in existence now?] the system asked, its voice dry but not mocking.

Liria didn't answer. She let the silence stretch between them, waiting for the system to get the message.

[Ah. I see. It's one of those nights.]

She took a step forward, the wind whipping against her cloak as she moved away from the inn, away from the village, away from everything small and forgettable. She wasn't meant for places like this.

She was meant for more.

Azael had freed her, in ways Liria hadn't realized she needed. The chains she once thought were hers to break had been illusions. The real shackles had been inside her own mind—the hesitations, the questions, the morality that once forced her to measure the worth of her actions.

Now, she saw the truth.

Power didn't ask for permission. It didn't justify itself.

It simply was.

Liria inhaled deeply, the cold air burning her lungs. Every step she took felt lighter, the abyss beneath her feet more familiar than the ground she had once called home.

A flicker of movement caught her eye.

She turned sharply, hand resting on the hilt of her sword. The night was still, the village quiet, but something shifted in the distance. A whisper of something unseen.

Her grip tightened. "Who's there?"

Nothing.

No reply. No sound.

Only the faint rustle of wind against the trees.

[Okay, I know I'm not just being paranoid,] the system said. [That definitely wasn't the wind.]

Liria narrowed her eyes, scanning the darkness. Her instincts screamed at her, something primal stirring in her blood. A test.

Azael wouldn't have sent her here just to think.

No, there was something else waiting in the shadows.

[You should be careful. Just a thought.]

Liria smirked. "What, worried about me?"

[Worried about what's left of you.]

Before she could reply, a blur of movement shot out from the darkness.

Liria dodged just in time, her body twisting with unnatural precision as a blade sliced through the air where she had been standing. She landed on her feet, sword drawn in an instant, black flames licking the edges of the steel.

A figure stepped into the moonlight.

Tall. Cloaked in darkness. A mask obscuring their face, but the gleam of sharp, calculating eyes visible beneath the hood.

An assassin.

Liria smiled, tilting her head. "I was hoping for something more interesting."

The assassin didn't speak.

They lunged.

Liria met them head-on, her blade colliding with theirs in a burst of black sparks. The force sent tremors through her arms, but she held her ground, pushing back with an effortless strength that would have been impossible years ago.

Her opponent adjusted instantly, slipping into the shadows, only to reappear behind her with deadly precision.

She dodged, twisting out of the way just as a dagger skimmed past her ribs.

Too slow.

Too predictable.

Liria exhaled sharply, her movements flowing like liquid shadow. She wasn't fighting like she used to—wasn't reacting. She was anticipating.

And her opponent had already lost.

They struck again, aiming for her throat, but she caught their wrist mid-strike, twisting it violently until they stumbled.

A heartbeat later, she drove her knee into their stomach, sending them crashing to the ground.

They gasped, struggling to rise, but Liria placed the tip of her sword against their chest, black flames curling up the blade.

"Who sent you?"

The assassin didn't answer.

She pressed the blade closer. "You get one chance."

Still, silence.

Annoying.

Liria's grip tightened, but before she could press further, the assassin suddenly flicked their fingers—something small, metallic, glinting in the moonlight—

A flash of light exploded in her vision.

Smoke.

A distraction.

By the time her vision cleared, the assassin was gone.

Liria stood motionless, her blade still flickering with dark flames. Her heart wasn't racing. She wasn't shaken.

She was irritated.

[Okay, so that was interesting,] the system muttered.

Liria sheathed her sword, rolling her shoulders. "Someone's watching me."

[No kidding. You did just slaughter an entire village. That tends to attract attention.]

She ignored the jab, her mind already working through the possibilities. This wasn't a coincidence.

Azael had sent her here for a reason.

But someone else had been waiting.

The pieces were shifting.

And Liria was ready to play.